


Testament of Solomon

by MagnetoTheMagnificent



Series: The Davidic Dynasty [2]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Biblical Scripture References (Abrahamic Religions), Crowley is Bad at Being a Demon (Good Omens), Genderfluid Crowley (Good Omens), He/Him Pronouns for Beelzebub (Good Omens), Implied/Referenced Torture, They/Them Pronouns for Crowley (Good Omens)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-02
Updated: 2020-06-02
Packaged: 2021-03-03 19:00:27
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,284
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24510460
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MagnetoTheMagnificent/pseuds/MagnetoTheMagnificent
Summary: In the Testament of Solomon, King Solomon employs (enslaves) a bunch of demons to build the Temple. Poor Crowley just wanted to stay out of it.
Series: The Davidic Dynasty [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1771105
Kudos: 7





	1. Chapter 1

Crowley slinked up the marble steps leading to the king's throne.   
"You called for me?"  
The king leaned forward in his grand throne.   
"Adon Crawly, I understand you were close with my father," the young king began, looking Crowley up and down.   
Crowley smirked.   
"I was, why do you ask? You never seemed interested in me before."  
Before he died, King David had ensured that Crowley would be given the highest honours among the nobility, as well as to Aziraphale. Shlomo, David's son, had avoided Crowley in his court. Crowley was able to do as they pleased, and was glad the king left them alone. The only time they had even spoken to Shlomo was in the young king's magnificent garden, when they had somehow gotten into a heated argument on the proper care of palm trees.  
Now, Shlomo wanted to speak to them again.   
"I'm going to build a temple," Shlomo informed them simply.   
"S about time. I was wondering when you would," Crowley chuckled.  
"I'm going to be utilizing all the newest breakthroughs in architecture and art," the king continued.   
"Makes sense," Crowley shrugged, fidgeting with their bracelet.   
"You know I'm only an art enthusiast, right?"   
Shlomo smiled.   
"I didn't call you in here to discuss the fineries of human expression, if that's what you're getting at," he said simply, narrowing his eyes at Crowley's inhuman eyes.   
Crowley suddenly felt very uncomfortable.  
"I'm also going to be calling on people from all over to contribute," Shlomo confided slyly.   
Crowley's stomach twisted in a knot. He knew.   
"That would be wise, to establish yourself as king on Earth," they commented nervously.  
"Not just on Earth."   
The king stood up. He walked towards Crowley, and Crowley was unsure if he meant harm.   
"I was hoping I could acquire the aid of the demonic realm. My ancestors had strictly associated with the ethereal, but I want to establish my sovereignty on all realms," Shlomo explained, circling the demon.   
"And how would you do that? No self-respecting demon would cooperate," Crowley asked nervously.   
"That's true," the king nodded.  
For a second Crowley hoped that would be the last of it, but of course the wisest man on Earth was smarter.  
"Of course, if there was a demon who, say, had allegiances elsewhere, and who had considerable influences in Hell, said demon could convince the others to give their services."  
The king's lips curled into a smile.   
"You swore loyalty to my father, Adon Crawly," Shlomo reminded them.  
"And why are you telling me this? Why would I know anything of the demonic sort? Why, I-"  
Shlomo cut Crowley off.  
"Really? Lying to the wisest among men?" He shook his head.   
Crowley sighed.  
"I'm not on the best terms with Hell. I haven't been down there in ages. I'd love to help," Crowley lied, "but they would never listen to me."  
Shlomo raised a brow in interest.  
"Funny how it happens," he commented lowly.   
Crowley shrank under his gaze.  
"You were of the highest in Heaven, and now, you can't even get a word in down there."  
Crowley's face turned red, and they felt the blood rush to their cheeks, burning hotly.   
"Is that a sensitive matter, Crawly? Falling from Grace?" The king mocked.   
Scales formed along Crowley's necks, and their eyes were completely serpentine.  
"It'ssss not wise to talk that way to demon," Crowley threatened.  
"I know you won't hurt me. You're too curious to see what I'll amount to," Shlomo dismissed the fuming Crowley.  
"Besides, if you won't help me, I'll have to resort to less than diplomatic tactics," he said simply.  
"And I know you hate bloodshed."  
Crowley shrank down, defeated.   
Either way, they were doomed. If Shlomo waged war against Hell, it would all be their fault, they would be tortured, and who knew how many would die. If Crowley tried to talk to the rest of the demons, they would be punished for consorting with humans. It was hopeless.


	2. Chapter 2

Lord Beezlebub was seated in his throne when Crowley burst in.   
"Oh, you're back early. What doezzz the snake have to say now?"   
Crowley fell at his feet.  
"Lord Beezlebub, I came to warn you," Crowley said breathlessly.  
"Really? You? Warn me?" Beezlebub scoffed.  
Crowley scrambled to stand.  
"The king, the one endowed by God, is building a temple," they blurted out.  
"So I hear."  
Beezlebub wasn't impressed.  
"He intends to utilize demonic essence, with or without our cooperation," Crowley continued desperately.  
"Well, izzzzn't he arrogant," Beezlebub commented, not taking Crowley seriously at all.  
"Lord Beezlebub, this isn't a joke! He can actually succeed!" they protested, and a crowd had begun to gather, curious at the commotion.  
"I think you've been up there too long, you're beginning to doubt our power," the prince of Hell mused.   
A ripple of laughter spread among the crowd.  
"I'm serious! There will be bloodshed! Our only hope is to cooperate!" Crowley pleaded.  
"You inzzzinuate cooperating with humanzzz? That'z almozt as bad as fraternizing with angelzzzz," Beezlebub roared.   
"If I may, my Lord, I think Crawly here needs a bit of a reminder of our, and their status," Hastur suggested slyly.  
Beezlebub smiled.  
"I think Hastur here is right," he announced, beckoning for two demons.  
They quickly grabbed Crowley from behind, shoving them to the ground.  
"Thiz izz what happenzzz when a demon stayzz up there too long. They forget who they are," Beezlebub approached Crowley, who was held down on their stomach.   
"They forget their place," he continued, grabbing Crowley's hair roughly, yanking their head back so they could see the jeering audience.   
"What do you suggezzt we do with thiz lunatic?" Beezlebub asked.  
"Reeducation!" the crowd chanted.  
Crowley's eyes filled with terror.   
"You heard them," Beezlebub told the two demons restraining Crowley.  
Crowley didn't bother trying to escape. They had tried before, right after the Fall, and it was futile. They had nowhere to run.  
All they could do was glare at Beezlebub as they were dragged away. 

Months had passed. Crowley was exhausted. Their corporal form had discorperated weeks before, leaving only their damaged True forms.  
Their six wings, their cruel reminder of their past, lay limply by their side, tattered and bruised.   
Their scales were cracked and peeling, and their eyes hurt to open.   
They had been left chained up for the past two weeks, without a word or a sign of anyone else.   
Perhaps the demons knew that after all they had sustained, the worst torture Crowley could receive was their own thoughts.   
Left in solitude, Crowley was haunted by their mind.


	3. Chapter 3

Crowley was lost in a memory when they were finally visited. It was Beezlebub.  
Beezlebub looked tired, almost mournful.  
Shaking, Crowley braced themself for another round of torture.  
Beezlebub stared at them in their state for a long while before finally speaking.  
"You were right," they finally said quietly. 

Crowley looked up. If they didn't know better they would have thought they saw tears in his eyes.   
"It wazzn't a war. It wazz an ambush. He took so many, forzed them to do hizz bidding and then tortured them, dizplayed them like animalzz," Beezlebub described, his voice rising.   
Crowley didn't know what to say.   
"They didn't have a chanze to fight back," Beezlebub screamed.  
If it were anyone else, Crowley would have felt pity. But it was ironic hearing it come from Beezlebub, the torturer, the persecuter.  
"This all your fault, Crawly," the prince muttered with hate.   
He spat on Crowley, and the acid burned their skin. Crowley tried not to wince.  
"You're in for it now," Beezlebub warned.  
He punched Crowley hard in the gut before storming out, and Crowley knew he meant it.  
It would be a long decade.


End file.
